stream of consciousness #1

January 19th, 2009

Apologies in advance for what follows – not an attempt at Kerouac(k)ian prose, just the only way to write with brevity about the past fortnight, hold on, here goes, Day One’s mission is to reach the Glacier! And so the Grand Voyage begins, Sean – drives, Geoff – photographs and is enthused by all, Ann – creates her cosy corner and enjoys it all, I – sit and think, and cough, and my ears they do pop: off on State Highway 6 – this runs past the very street I type from – out, way out west, from Nelson to Murchison, all guns blazing, I feel like a trailblazer in this landscape, very quickly all greens obscure other colours bar the skies blues and whites – logging country, boy – then “Murch” and Breakfast #2 (eggs) and coffee outside a cool little hub in the centre of town, a little hippy-ish, great Sunday morning feel – a few good hangovers were conceived here last eve, I’ll be bound! ON! and to some young rapids on the Buller River where we watch a young semi-aquatic optimist becomes suddenly more pessimistic as their raft captsizes and they drift downstream away from the guide’s safety rope, let’s hope that doesn’t happen to any of our party this week, eh? (read on, for it surely does!) And so through more breathtaking landscapes than I would care to shake an un-shitty stick at to the wondrous glory of…Greymouth, where we had KFC: boo! Nowhere else seemed to be available, it was a straight fight for our affections between the Colonel and the Clown: clowns never win. So, away from a strange place – although probably good and cheap – with a sea wall obstructing what would surely/shorely be the best view: the shoreline and sea, etc…and on past beaches of incredible beauty. I’m told it rains on the West Coast – not on our day through, it looks tropical to me, as I’m also told, it is! A sign warning of penguins stirs the curious mind, but I get the impression, anything can and frequently does co-exist down here. On to Haast – greedy with the “a”s, eh? past the elephants graveyard of driftwood washed up and bleached on Hokitika beach and then inward to giant hills…hell, let’s call them mountains, they deserve it, and to Franz Josef Glacier…how queer! That was Sunday…

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